Nora
“Can we take Daddy lunch again?” Emma asks.
The week has moved at a snail’s pace. Probably because we’ve stayed inside. We’ve fallen into a routine of arts and crafts and a movie in the morning, followed by lunch with Grayson down in his shop, and games in the afternoon.
The kids have really started looking forward to lunch with their dad, because it’s the one time of the day they’ve been able to go outside. Although I’m thinking today I might take them out back to play. The photographers have started to dissipate. When Nick and Jessa came over last night to bring us dinner, they said there
were still a few stragglers at the end of the lane, but nothing like how it was when we got here on Sunday.
“Nowa.” Emma pulls at my arm until I look at her.
“Sorry, doodlebug, yes, we can take your daddy lunch. I’ve already got sandwiches made. And after that we can go out back and swing. How does that sound?”
“Really?” Jack says, running into the kitchen.
I laugh. “Yes, really. You guys have been so good this week. I think you deserve some sunshine.”
“Yes!” Emma jumps up and down. Henry tries to jump but falls over.
“Almost, Henry.”
I help him up. He smiles and claps his hands.
“Good job, Henwy.” Emma pats Henry’s head.
“Jack, grab the water. Emma, get the chips, and I’ll grab the sandwiches.”
Together, we make our way down to the garage. The kids plow through the door while I stand back and take a breath to steel myself for seeing Grayson hot and sweaty in his environment.
I haven’t done more than kiss him since we’ve been back, and my body aches for his.
The way he moves around his garage, reaching for tools and working on cars, is a major turn-on—one I keep trying to ignore, but damn it, it’s hard. Every day when we bring him lunch, I have to fight the urge to rip my clothes off and beg him to take me on the hood of a car.
I’m horny.
And in love.
And that’s a bad combination.
I push open the door, and it doesn’t matter what I told myself; nothing stops the reaction I have to him. Even in his work clothes, he’s breathtakingly handsome, the perfect mixture of boy next door and rugged outdoorsman.
He’s gentle with his kids, soft and tender, but he also exudes confidence with a tinge of arrogance, and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t turn me on.
I’m distracted by the sight of him—the smudge of grease on his face, the way his muscles flex and move as he reaches for Henry and tosses him into the air. By the faded jeans with a rip in the knee and the T-shirt tucked in his back pocket. Everything about him sets me on fire.
The way he looks at me turns my insides to jelly. I’m helpless against this man.
“I’m so turned on right now,” I whisper into his ear when the kids aren’t paying attention.
Grayson lifts a brow. “Really?”
I bite my lip and nod.
He looks down at his dirty clothes and grease-covered hands. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack. I want you to bend me over and fuck me against the hood of that car,” I say, nodding toward the candy apple red Chevelle sitting in his bay.
Grayson wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me against him. He kisses me and presses his lips to my ear. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”